Virtual Comedy Club

2003-08-14T01:17:00.000-07:00

OXYMORON OF THE DAY

Spotted on a dumpster in the Hollywood area..."Quality Waste."

2003-07-03T16:55:00.000-07:00

THIS HERE IS SOME FUNNY CRAP

I have been almost literally busting a gut with laughter on this stuff. Sure, it's fun to laugh at the pretensions of the distant past from our current perspective, but these really take the liver-flavored cake. The pictures are just funny, but the acerbic commentaries push it over the line to dangerously-long laff inducing. The Gallery of Regrettable Food and theseWeight Watchers Cards from 1974 are both worth a look. Good cheesy entertainment.

2003-07-03T14:14:00.000-07:00

WHAT'S UP?

Haven't posted on this blog for quite a long time thank you, but I'm still alive. For the moment. I'll try to post some more stuff on here, since I have plenty of time currently. Apropos of not much, I've just come out of the hospital, where I found out I have a heart problem which could kill me at any moment. Or, I could live another 50 years. Either one. So, here's hoping the medication will take care of it. But, if I eventually stop posting for a really long time, (let's give it, say, five years), you'll know what happened to me.

2002-10-09T21:35:00.000-07:00

...I'D LOVE SOME CRACK, THANK YOU...

I heard a radio spot today for some sort of rehab program that began with sappy music and an announcer intoning, "Do you know someone hopelessly addicted to drugs?" Not really. All the people I know are HOPEFULLY addicted to drugs! "Gee, I'm optimistic that the heroin monkey on my back will help me to straighten out my interpersonal relationships, call me a Pollyanna..." I can sum up all of these type of entries of mine cogently: Me smart. Everyone else but me dumb.

2002-10-09T21:31:00.000-07:00

I'M BACK

Okay, first posting in four months, but I'm not promising any regular posting or anything. But we'll see.

2002-06-18T22:30:00.000-07:00

THINGS I RECENTLY ACQUIRED THROUGH E-BAY (BUT SHOULDN'T HAVE)

Parachute pants autographed by Rick Astley

A used Ant Farm

A beat-up copy of The Archies Sing Vietnam Campfire Songs (Quadraphonic Pressing)

Josephine The Plumber's kidney

Rare prototype Breast-Implant-Gone-Wrong Barbie (Never produced)

A box of "Teddy Kennedy in '84" buttons (unused)

1975 Powder Blue Crushed Velvet Tuxedo with matching light-up cummerbund in Men's Portly Size 58 (might need it as a costume for a comedy skit)

Wacky Packages sticker #15 (Rare Irish series)

An ass kicking

2002-06-18T22:22:00.000-07:00

A TECHNICAL NOTE...

I've installed a new commenting system, which seems to be working better. Thanks to the fine Brits at enetation.co.uk you may now rant at me and question my comedic skills any time of the day or night. Thanx muchly to Blogger for the referral!

2002-06-13T22:56:00.000-07:00

MAKE MONEY AND ANNOY MORE PEOPLE!

Isn't it annoying on "The Osbournes" when they bleep out every other fucking word with that stupid high-pitched bleep? They could just drop out the audio entirely. But then I got a brainstorm: why not use that dead space to their advantage, and sell that time to advertisers? They couldn't cram much in there, probably just a mention of the brand name, but I think it would probably go a little something like this:

OZZY: Sharon where the COKE are my socks?

SHARON: How the NIKE should I know Ozzy? Do I look like a COORSing psychic?

KELLY: Will you two stop bickering you stupid TONY HAWK'S PRO SKATER FOR THE X-BOX???

DISCLAIMER: The previous comedy "bit" was constructed without its author having ever watched an episode of TV's comedy smash hit "The Osbournes," although he will admit to having seen 10 second clips of it on "Access Hollywood." America's embrace of this retarded "show" proves once again why I am not a target demographic and proud of it! Thank you.

2002-05-29T22:47:00.000-07:00

A RIDICULOUSLY HARD WORD GAME!

Here's a word game of the maddeningly obstruse type played by smug NPR types who think they are really fun loving. If you don't believe me, just check out the web site of Says Youor the Will Shortz weekly puzzle heard on Weekend Edition. Anyway, the answers to the following 11 crossword puzzle type clues are all formed using the same nine letters. If you want a clue, the nine letters are listed at the bottom. Answers to be posted soon. No prizes will be awarded for this, as you obviously have way too much time on your hands. Here we go:

1. New England pronouncement
2. German philosopher is intellectually suspect
3. Old TV Crime Show
4. Sugar Addled little one
5. Crazed lesbian
6. Small feline organ
7. Female New Wave Group Members
8. Facial mannerism removed from public view
9. Connecticut resident issued speeding ticket
10. Small insect shirt front
11. Sharply fashionable Smothers Brother

For those who are crazed, the letters are, Y, K, I, C, T, D, E, N, A. (P.S. Using the internet is cheating, bucko.)

2002-05-28T21:39:00.000-07:00

AS JAY LENO WOULD HAVE IT, HERE'S ONE FROM THE DUH! FILE

I see on the news today that the Washington D.C. Medical Examiner announced that Chandra Levy had, in fact, been murdered. Gee, YA THINK??? What was your first clue, Professor Hawking? That her bones were scattered farther apart than George Bush's ambition and his qualifications? That was so obvious, my pet rock could have figured that one out! (That last joke lifted from Episode #218 of "CHiPs", first broadcast March 21, 1977.)

2002-05-20T23:25:00.000-07:00

A JOKE I DREAMED THE OTHER NIGHT

Okay, it's a really bad joke, but I'm still astounded when I can remember stuff from my dreams that makes any sense whatsoever. It's more usually stuff like a dozen Toulouse Lautrecs juggling pineapples or Evel Kneivel jumping over a 100 foot long cheese danish. Here goes:

Q: Why couldn't the amputee detective solve his case?
A: He was stumped!

Yeheyoy! Okay, fine. I'm going to go to sleep now and work on it.

2002-04-07T20:19:00.000-07:00

I CAN'T MAKE THIS STUFF UP, IT'S TOO REAL DEPARTMENT

Observed today in Hollywood: Around the Hollywood and Highland mall, a security guard clad in: black paramilitary flak vest, combat boots, utility belt, holstered .45 caliber revolver, walkie-talkie, night stick, taser gun and mace. Over the right breast pocket was stitched a word, which I assume, was the man's surname: LOVE. If that was not his surname, then we really do have no plausible deniability left that we are living in a world gone mad. Paging Mister Orwell.

And moving from the ironic, to the, shall we say, only TOO appropriate, a small pickup truck with a hateful, xenophobic, jingoistic bumper sticker on the window: it showed a small American flag with the dumbshit sentiment: "Nuke 'Em and Sieze Their Assets." I feel 100% positive that the placer of this disgusting sticker paid no mind to the implications of the fact that the truck he placed this sticker on was made in -- wait for it -- Japan. Yeah. (The sticker was probably made in China, come to think of it.) I hereby revoke your American citizenship, asshole. You're not helping, and you don't live in my world. Now piss off.

2002-03-26T20:24:00.000-08:00

ZEBRA? WHO SAID ANYTHING ABOUT A ZEBRA?

It is not usually too easy to stun me, but I have to admit that there are many things on the Internet that can still astound. One of them is Spamradio, a noble recycling effort. Perfect to put on in the background while web surfing. Trust me.

2002-03-25T22:04:00.000-08:00

MORE OSCAR AFTERBUZZ

Last night, America witnessed a snowjob on the Oscars. No, I'm not talking about any of the awards given out. I'm talking about the location of the awards. Sure, they were, in fact, given at "The Kodak Theatre." But by hanging lots of drapes and scattering giant Oscar statues all up and down the street, they were able to conceal the fact that Oscars were GIVEN OUT IN A SHOPPING MALL. Yes, they did take place in the Kodak Theatre, which is located inside the Hollywood and Highland complex, which is, in fact, a mall. They didn't show you the Gap store (sign covered with black tarp), the Hot Topic store, or the Aunite Anne's pretzel kiosk. But I think it is only appropriate that the Oscars will, for the NEXT 20 YEARS, be given out in a mall. And just wait about two years when all the fancy stores move out because no one will buy their expensive jewelry and perfume, and are replaced by Sam Goody, Petco and The 99 Cents only store. I love it.

2002-03-24T19:33:00.000-08:00

OSCAR MANIA!

I had a busy day today. After buying tickets for the Paul McCartney concert and then meeting The Electric Prunes (yes, it is 2002, not 1967), as well as going to Rockaway Records and wasting money at their parking lot sale on tons of other things I should not have bought, I headed back to my humble home, which is a mere three blocks from the location where the Oscars you watched tonight were broadcast from. And let me tell you, it is REALLY COOL! So buy a plane ticket and come here to see it! Buy hotel rooms and expensive meals! Spend a lot of money! Spend spend spend like a demon! You'll be glad you did! (Okay, I just want the area spruced up, you found me out.)

2002-03-24T02:06:00.000-08:00

ANOTHER SATURDAY IN THESE PARTS...

Earlier today I was shopping in one of my favorite record/music/CD stores, Amoeba Music, and I happened to walk right past Drew Barrymore, which was interesting. It was her, all right. But I let her be. I don't really have anything to say to celebrities in situations like that. Almost anything to come out of my mouth would sound stupid. Anyway, right as I exited the store, I spotted a billboard for E! Entertainment Television, with a quote from -- you guessed it, Drew Barrymore. What a wacky place Hollywood be.

Then later this evening, I indulged my taste, an insular and odd as it may be, for Bubblegum Music, yes, that's right, at the Bubblegum Ball, put on by Scram Magazine, in conjunction with the book they released, Bubblegum Music Is The Naked Truth, which yours truly is a contributor to. However, don't look for any writings, I only contributed photos. I highly recommend this tome anyway for the wealth of knowledge and entertainment it provides.

So anyway, if you've looked at the site for this concert/event, you can see how great and goofy it was. Anytime where I can bowl while drinking Tequila Sunrises while "Wig Wam Bam" by The Sweet blares over the P.A. system is an awesome night for me. But things kicked into crazy overdrive when a guy wearing a silver spandex jumpsuit, silver pinstripe suit and silver makeup appeared. He informed me that he was one of The Mercury Men,a bunch of psuedo mimes who do...nothing. Check out their website and you'll figure it out. But now it makes more sense when he climbed up on to the counter and stood there motionless for half an hour, completely blocking my view of Sparkle*Jets U.K., a local power pop combo from Orange County. I highly recommend their first CD, which I own. And no, they aren't from the U.K. they're just a bunch of smartasses, which endears them to me immediately. They did a set of all covers of The Jackson Five, and then later on a set of tunes by The Archies. Archies lead singer Ron Dante was supposed to drop by for one song, but didn't show up. Oh well. I also managed to give away a bunch of my bubblegum 45 EP's that I did a few years back. Now I only have about 250 left! If you want one, just e-mail me. BTW, in this posting I have CRUSHED my previous record for links in one posting, if you didn't notice. It's late now, I'm going to sleep. Tomorrow I have to go meet the Electric Prunes. Goodnight.

2002-03-23T00:12:00.000-08:00

ANOTHER FUN EXPERIMENT

Here's another sociology experiment. A few months ago (I know, with the subject matter, it probably should have been 1998, as you will see shortly), the following joke came to me in a dream. Or, should I say, "joke." Because this thing, while IN THE FORM OF A JOKE, really doesn't make any sense. Yet still, you laugh at it, because it seems funny, at least until you think about it for a moment. Here goes:

Q: How do you get Monica Lewinsky up off a couch?
A: What couch?!

You see? Looks like a joke, but has NO MEANING. And don't try to tell me it has something to do with her being on her knees. But you can have fun with this. Spread it around, hit the punchline with zest, and start guffawing. Then ask your clueless friends, "What's the matter? Don't you GET IT?????" Most people will start laughing if you're insistent enough about it, not willing to appear clueless. Unless, like my friends, they already know you're a smartass and will tell you to put a cork in it, or, state another favorite retort (must be at least two other people present): "You hold him, I'll hit him."

2002-03-21T20:34:00.000-08:00

AN IMMODEST PROPOSAL

Money, money, money. Everybody wants it and no one can get enough. People will do anything to get money, so they can buy food, so they can avoid death. I'm thinking how nice it would be to cut out the middleman and just give the money directly to Death, to leave us alone for 85 years or so. But then what would all those people do who work at McDonald's? And how would Death get the money? Maybe PayPal?

2002-03-21T20:31:00.000-08:00

A RELIGIOUS QUERY

I'm thinking about changing religions, from Lapsed Jew to Lapsed Christian. But I need some help. I'd like some opinions on which religion is more beneficial to avoid. Or maybe there's another option I haven't even considered, like becoming a former Scientologist? All opinions and information are welcomed.

2002-03-19T22:24:00.000-08:00

METAPHYSICS IS FOR ASSHOLES

I'm sometimes asked, what do I believe in; however, I am usually asked this by myself. Until now, my answers have been somewhat inadequate to me. But I can state with assurance that I have been a long-time skeptic, carrying little to no truck with religion, pyschic phenomena, ghosts, UFO's, the afterlife, reincarnation, past life experience, near death experience, channeling, and all that other crap that people love to scare themselves with. Sure, I love to watch it on the X Files (I'll have many upcoming years, I hope, to catch the reruns as well as all the shows I missed in the original run). AHA! you say. I have this guy pegged. Science is his religion. Logic is his touchstone. He needs "proof." Um, no. Not really. Why, you ask?

Two reasons: any observations humans make are inhernently limited by the partial functionality of our senses (vision that can only see along a limited wavelength, only four kinds of taste, etc.) True, we can use tools of our own construction to help us out on this ( microscope, telescope, photograph, etc.) but we will always have a cloudy window between our own consciousness and what is palpably the "true nature" of things around us. The second reason is the fact well known to anyone who has done any reading whatsoever about quantum physics: the very act of observation itself causes immutable changes in thing being observed, so that we can never get an honest glimpse of what are observing. We ARE NOT DETATCHED from the world around us, we are not sterile observers, as much as we would like to be. No, all we do is gather vague notions about how to act in the world around us, and, fortunately, 9,999 times out of 10,000, these rules stand us in good stead and allow us to function well in our world and go through until our natural deaths.

However.

It is that one time out of 10,000 which reminds us that science is not immutable, but merely a nice set of suggested rules to work with. And this is why I like science: not because it is immutable; a strong rock for me to brace myself against in the cold wild world out there, but BECAUSE it IS changeable, and any of its precepts can be thrown in doubt, overturned, changed or reversed, IF there is enough evidence to back it up. Additionally, it is these flukes, these derivations from the general rules that make life interesting. And all of this makes me a FORTEAN. Forteans do not believe in things, nor do they disbelieve in things (including God): they merely are content to go along with the conventional wisdom; using whatever works based on trial and error until something else comes along to throw assumptions asunder. Besides, it is irrelevant to God if I believe in it/him/her or not. I have been chided as a supreme Cop-Out Master for this, but my thought about God is that "I accept whatever the true nature of God is." Since there is no way for me to "know" what it is, or prove or disprove this existence or non-existence, I am content to let the Universe run as it is doing and let everyone else worry about it. That is, until something/someone does come along that can or will prove or disprove it. But I'm still waiting on that. Also, being Fortean allows you to consider any possiblity, which is very freeing. It welcomes questioning. And it practically dictates the compilation of WEIRD THINGS AND EVENTS, which are always fun.
For more info, check out The Fortean Times. It is nice to have a handle to hang my beliefs on for once.

2002-03-18T23:20:00.000-08:00

LET'S COIN A PHRASE

Here's an experiment in sociology and communication we can all try. I want everyone reading this (both of you) to spread the wholly unfounded rumor that Black people no longer wish to be called "African American." After all, it's been about 10-15 years, so it's time for another change. Now it is only politically correct to refer those with this heritage as "Post-Africans." Say this to everyone you know in a very serious tone and mention that you heard this "fact" while watching a public affairs show on Sunday morning on BET. It works equally well on guilty liberals and hateful racists alike. Black folks probably won't fall for it though, so leave them out of this. It's fun to cause trouble!

2002-03-17T23:14:00.000-08:00

TV SKINNY

As promised, here's my rant on celebrities, actors and TV stars. For those of you that have never seen one in person, the first time it happens it can be quite disorienting. The old saw that "the camera adds ten pounds" is what I would call a gross understatement. On TV, super-skinny people look normal, skinny people look plump, normal people look overweight, overweight people look...oh wait a minute, overweight people are never seen on TV. I forgot.

But it goes even beyond that. Actors who appear on TV or film, with the help of writers, directors, make-up artists and costumers, appear quite formidable. In person they are spindly, fragile and quite frankly, insubstantial in all ways. It's like you could blow on them hard and they would crumble to dust and blow away.

And the looks/beauty equation is somehow also quite screwed up in the translation. I was working on this radio gig a few years ago where a number of low to mid level celebrities were being interviewed. In person, I saw Joely Fisher, who you might remember was on the Ellen sitcom. On TV, she is pretty, but not spectacular. In person, sexy and gorgeous with a great figure. Also there was the current year's Miss Universe, on camera a knockout. In person, she looked like a broomstick with bug eyes and two melons strapped to the front. And, again, she looked small and weak, like you could bash her head in with a paper clip. I also once ran into Lisa Kudrow from Friends, who looks thin on television. But in person she looks SUPER thin and tall, with a neck that goes on forever like some beautiful wild swan (*sigh*).

This also both hurts/helps my chances of being in movies. At 6'5" I would look like a giant compared to these people, and comparatively, I am. I guess I'm stuck playing big idiot/menacing biker roles, if anything. That's why I have to stay behind the camera, if I ever work on another film. Curse you, Hollywood. And anyone thinking of a career on TV or film, start dieting, baby. I recommend The Atkins Diet, if you can get past the fact the whole premise of the diet sounds weird. But that's a whole other rant.

2002-03-15T21:45:00.000-08:00

I REFUTE YOU TOTALLY

I'm sick of religious/uptight/right wing, etc. people who complain about the "declining moral climate" in this country. You are COMPLETELY FUCKING WRONG. The climate now is much more moral and tolerant. What kind of world you wanna return to? A world where a black man was prohibited by law from using the same urinal as a white man because of the color of his skin? A world where people couldn't get into certain colleges because of their religions and had to be pretend to be WASPs and hide their religions in order to do so (don't laugh, my current boss had to do this, and he went to college as recently as the early 1960's). That "moral climate" is completely IMMORAL, you yay-hoos. Look, you've gotten a lot of what you wanted, okay? The VCR drove the porno theatres out of Times Square, and Disney took it over and scrubbed it clean. Hookers and drug dealers no longer walk the streets; they've got pagers and they go to your house if you want them. We hid away all the smut JUST FOR YOU AND YOUR PRECIOUS KIDS, so all of you could be in denial and continue to shop at Wal-Mart or wherever the fuck it is that you buy your Nascar beer coozies, okay? Alright, so the gays have a parade every once in while. Big stinking deal. You can easily avoid that part of town and stay in your goddamn gated community and watch you satellite TV. Just make sure that parental lock is on, okay? Wouldn't want your darling little ones to have their MINDS IMPLODE by hearing the word 'fuck', right? Meanwhile, they've probably hacked passed that stupid Nanny program you have on your Comp USA computer and are now crusing the net, looking at autopsy photos and bukkake videos. Even if they do go to church. Wake up and smell the Starbucks, Pink Boy. It's later than you think.

2002-03-12T22:10:00.000-08:00

PIZZA HUT IS PISSING ME OFF AGAIN

Having exhausted every possible topping for a pizza, and squirting cheese into every crevice of a pizza, Pizza Hut has broken new ground with the P'ZONE, a psuedo calzone which, come on now, everyone must realize this, is nothing more than A PIZZA FOLDED OVER ON ITSELF. But friends, this is only the beginning of a long-lasting new line folded pizzas they will take to calling PIZZA ORIGAMI. Roll the pizza into a cylinder! Mold it into a sphere! Turn into a mystical pyramid! The possibilities are as wide open as the very limits of geometry itself! Get your protractors and pizza cutters ready!!

2002-03-11T23:03:00.000-08:00

yes...

2002-03-11T22:54:00.000-08:00

AND NOW, A POLITICAL COMMENTARY...

2002-03-11T22:14:00.000-08:00

WE'VE ALREADY WON

In light of all the instant nostalgia and deep thoughts on the anniversary of 09/11/01, I have come to the conclusion that the USA has NOTHING to worry about. We have nothing to worry about losing our preeminence in the world, our power or our economic dominance, and here's why: I read that after the remains of the World Trade Center are finally carted away, and sold as scrap, the steel will bring a price of $50 million. In the year 2000, the Gross National Product of Afghanistan was only $25 million. So you see, the remains of what you PULVERIZED is worth TWICE AS MUCH as your WHOLE DAMN COUNTRY. Okay, so Bin Laden's from Saudi Arabia, where they've got a lot more money than that. But my point stands: it would take a lot more than what they managed on September 11, about A MILLION TIMES MORE, to make a DENT in what this country is and what it can do. For better or worse, take that to the bank.

2002-03-11T21:53:00.000-08:00

HO'ME SWEET HO'ME

Here's a joke I heard at work, didn't write it.

What does Snoop Doggy Dog use to clean his house?

Ble-atch!

2002-03-11T20:24:00.000-08:00

WHY I HATE MY NAME

Scott is a fine enough name, I suppose, I mean, it was in the Top 20 of baby names when I was born (1960's), so I'm sure there are plenty who have it. But damn it, why does it seem that everyone of any renown who shares this name is either an asshole or some flitty twerp? I give you the following in evidence:

1) Carrot Top: My mortal enemy, whose real name happens to be Scott Thompson. I'll bet the Scott Thompson late of Kids in the Hall is mighty happy that he goes by Carrot Top.
2)Scotty, the character from the film Boogie Nights. Played by the immortal Philip Seymour Hoffman; a sad, pathetic loser drip in a waaaaaayyyyy too-tight tank top. (By the way, anyone that calls me "Scotty" is in for a world of hurt. Or a dirty look.)
3)Scott Hamilton, the fey, bald figure skater and terminal presence on Olympics TV coverage.
4)Scott Evil from the Austin Powers films. Okay, he's actually a pretty cool character.
5) Scott The Engineer from The Howard Stern Show. Another sad-sack loser who constantly screws up on his job, smokes incessantly, is whipped by his wife and is a frequent object of derision by Stern and his supporting cast.

Okay, I thought there were some more, but I guess I need time to think of them. We'll get back to this later.

2002-03-07T21:27:00.000-08:00

I'M NEVER GOING BACK

It all started with a late night phone call from my friend, The Gator.
"You awake?"
"Hmppfph?" I said sauvely, through a blinding haze of eye crust.
"You wanna go to a Kings game?" he asked devilishly.
"Sure, yeah," I replied, still not at all expecting what he was about to lay on me.
"I got luxury suite tickets."
I sprang bolt upright on my sofa. "Luxury Suite? DUDE!" I yelled, using the word not at all ironically. I did not entertain for even a moment the notion to ask him why or how he had obtained these golden goodies, these passages to Nirvana, these entrance visas to another world that normal people like me are rarely afforded access. I knew to attempt to learn the story of their acquisition would require several hours and a few rounds of bourbon, and I had to be at work the next morning. But I remained steadfast in my assumption that the process involved several barter transactions, calling in of favors, and possibly, felonious blackmail.
I merely wanted the assurance from him that they were in fact, obtained legally. Having received said disclaimer, I agreed to meet him the following day after work.
He picked me up at work in his trusty ride, a piece of late model Detroit steel and, not coincidentally, a former state police cruiser that could do up to 130 miles per hour when no one was looking. We did not require the full use of its capabilities on the ride to Staples Center, but damn if didn't hope we somehow would have. We found the special parking lot our tickets allowed us, which was right next to the arena. Our parking spot was about a one minute walk from the front door. The Gator presented me with the much-coveted ticket: I felt like nothing less than Charlie Bucket in Willy Wonka, especially when I read the magical inscription on the ticket's face: Please use VIP Entrance. Joy!
We were allowed to use the special elevator that whisked up directly to level B of the suites. Once inside the plush carpeted hallway, I began to notice a higher level of decor employed than the normal plastic seats and concrete floors provided on the first level, or, even more depressing, on the top level next to the ceiling. The hallways contained framed photos of various concerts and sporting events that had taken place at Staples.
As we entered the suite, I saw a lavish spread of food laid out. There was the usual assortment of sporting event food: hot dogs, popcorn, potato chips, peanuts, chicken wings. But there was also ceasar salad, chopped salad, nachos, a large basket of baguette sandwiches, a huge fruit platter, and all the beer, wine and soda we could suck back. There was a sofa and two chairs, three televsion sets and two refrigerators. At the front were two rows of cushy leather armchairs to sit in a watch the game.
We had the place to ourselves for a while, but then some other folks came in and The Gator went into "on" mode. The man is so convincing he could sell soap to the French.
After a while of downing so much grub, I had to check out the restrooms, which were down the hall. After I went in, I nearly had a heart attack. "This place is so clean and well-furnished," I thought, "My God! I must have gone into the Ladies' Room!" But no, it was the gentlemen's W.C. But it was nicer that probably any other public men's facility I have ever been in.
There is something, I guess, inherently wrong about eating a caesar salad and sipping wine while watching a hockey game, but, I have to say, I like it. Even more unsettling was the announcement on the scoreboard that very soon, Staples Center will have opening an on-premises sushi bar. Some of you may call me a dillettante, a ludicrous Californian, or various and sundry other names, but hey, scarfing down California Rolls while watching a hockey game is an experience I would like to try. Okay, I will admit it, I have been spoiled. I can't go back. Why would I want to? Oh yeah, there was a hockey game also. 1-1 tie in overtime.

2002-03-05T22:03:00.000-08:00

ANOTHER CELEBRITY SIGHTING

Coming home from work tonight, in Beverly Hills I spotted driving a black SUV and chatting on his cell phone, Mr. Henry Winkler. Normally I wouldn't care, but, damn, it's The Fonz! Come on now!

2002-03-05T22:01:00.000-08:00

OBSERVED TONIGHT ON THE HOLLYWOOD SUBWAY (YES, THERE IS ONE)

I offer the following as observations, with a minimum of (unavoidable) comment:

1) Older black man, dressed like a dandy to some degree (black suit, pointy boots, knitted vest, bolo tie), tapdancing at the edge of the platform as the train approached. As it passed, he gallantly doffed his hat to the driver.
2) Cute hispanic girl, slender, dressed sexy but not slutty (tight corduroy slacks, open toed high heels, perfect fingernails and toenails) carrying a music book: Led Zeppelin for Intermediate Guitarists. She got off at the stop for L.A. City College.
3) Two white guys, lower-level film business functionaries (film editors?) with Weezer haircuts and glasses babbling endlessly. Must have just come from either the Olympics and/or Sundance Film Festival, since a) they had suitcases, b) they talked about being in Salt Lake, and c) were discussing being at a cocktail party of some variety and "becoming fast friends" with Michael Stipe and supermodel Helena Christensen. Yawn.

2002-02-27T23:04:00.000-08:00

ONE OF THE WACKY BENEFITS OF LIVING IN LOS ANGELES

Upon watching the first episode of the new sitcom "Watching Ellie" starring Julia Louis-Dreyfus last night on NBC, I was stunned to realize that the building where her character lives is THE SAME BUILDING I USED TO LIVE IN from 1992-1995! (1777 North Vermont Avenue for all you trivia hounds.)

At first I wasn't sure until the shot where she got off the elevator and ran outside into the street: Hey! I used to live there! The neighborhood has gotten somewhat hipper since I was around. The building was refurbished after being damaged in the January 1994 Northridge earthquake. I'm sure the rent has gone up since the $400 a month for a single I used to pay. Of course, Ellie lives in one of the big one bedrooms at the front of the building, which cost more than that.

Things like this make living in L.A. a surreal, dreamlike experience every once in a while. Most of the rest of time, it's just hot and smoggy.

2002-02-25T21:21:00.000-08:00

PREDICTIONS THAT COULDN'T HAVE BEEN MORE WRONG
One in a series

It was September of 1984 and Madonna was in her first flush of popularity. I was hanging out with my buddies who did a comedy TV show on the college TV station. We were taping a canned "opening sequence," which showed each of the cast members being picked up by a limousine. Everyone was caught in some wacky pose (swinging on swings, falling out of bed, etc.) Chris Baylas decided he wanted to be potrayed as passed out drunk in an alley, covered with newspapers. As we were shooting this, Chris commented that "I bet this is where Madonna will be in about 2002, screaming to anyone who will listen, 'No, you don't understand, I WAS MADONNA!" So far off it's not even close to funny. Guess we didn't have any clue at that point about the personality, ambition and intelligence of Ms. Ciccone. How we do learn.

2002-02-13T23:19:00.000-08:00

YOUR NUMBER'S UP

I couldn't help but come very close to puking when I found out that George Bush Sr. and George Bush Jr. "cutely" refer to themselves (and each other) as "41" and "43" for what number president they were. But after some thought, it occurred to me as a fan of the late great Douglas Adams, that he postulated that the answer to the Ultimate Question, i.e., what does life mean, and what is everything all about, was in fact, "42." Which would lend some additional importance to a certain Arkansan.... Chew on that for a while, Georges.

2002-02-12T22:34:00.000-08:00

I WON'T BE SCALPING THIS TICKET

One time I was driving drunk (kids, do NOT do this yourselves, it is bad). And I was so paranoid that I was going EXTRA SLOW on the freeway. Did you know that you can get a ticket for driving too slow? It's true. I see the motorcylce cop in my rear view window, and I slowed down even more. Then the cop pulled me over. He said "did you know there's a minimum speed on the freeway of 40 miles per hour?" Coolly, I replied, "Oh, I didn't know that meant all at once."

2002-02-12T22:30:00.000-08:00

IT'S OFFICIAL...I GIVE UP

See if you agree with me that consumerism has really gone too far this time. And if you don't care, you really should. Originally this was link to a story about Heinz preparing to release chocolate flavored french fries. Ugh. Goodnight, now.

2002-02-11T20:26:00.000-08:00

REAL LIFE IRONY
One in an occasional series

Upon riding the bus today I spotted a man who I assumed to be gay. Yes, breeders can have gaydar too, trust me. Not that that he was swishing about the bus and lisping, but hey, that is a destructive sterotype. I make this assumption based totally on his appearance, which I guess I can describe most cogently as "a little bit too well-groomed." As circumstantial evidence in support of my hypothesis, he disembarked at Santa Monica Boulevard (notice I didn't say he "got off on Santa Monica Boulevard." Too easy.)
I made this assumption well before I noted he was reading a book. Upon closer inspection, it was J.R.R. Tolkien's "The Hobbit." I took a closer look over his shoulder and noted the title of the chapter he was reading: "Queer Lodgings." Hey folks, I can't make this stuff up. It's too real.

2002-02-11T20:16:00.000-08:00

OKAY, I KNOW IT WAS A JOKE, BUT...

An old George Carlin bit, since hijacked by many other lesser stand up comics, was RECYCLED AGAIN on an episode of "Everybody Loves Raymond" I was accidentally watching. It's the old "People always say when they're looking for something, 'When I find that thing, it'll be in the last place I look.' Of course it'll be in the last place you look! After you find something you don't keep looking for it!" Er, this joke is too literal and doesn't make any sense. See, what they REALLY MEAN when they say that is not it will be in the last place I look, but in fact, it will be in the last place I look, AFTER I HAVE LOOKED IN EVERY OTHER POSSIBLE PLACE THAT IT COULD POTENTIALLY BE HIDING, i.e., I will only find it after I have searched every single other hiding place in the house. Glad I could help clear things up here.

2002-02-10T20:41:00.000-08:00

CHEAP DINNER!

I made dinner entirely out of items purchased at the 99 Cents Only Store. Yeah, baby. Bristol Farms, you can shove it!

2002-02-10T17:54:00.000-08:00

THE LATEST DISPATCH FROM OUR FASHION CORRESPONDENT

This is your Fashion Diva numero duo, Marina Von Bergstrom-Heisendorfer coming to you direct from Milan where the fall fashions have just previewed. Well, it has been an exhausting week here in Milan, darlings. There were no end of appalling Americans to deal with, and on several occasions the masseur I requested at my hotel (Lucio) was supposedly "not available and undergoing therapy due to the verbal abuse you heaped on him," or something. Oh, well.

But so much has been going on the runways I can barely remember it all! Heroin Chic is last year's fishwrapper. This year Beer Chic is in! Hans Offenstein of Ludicretia House in Berlin was showing a beer stained T-shirt, ripped cargo pants with bean dip ground in and a green John Deere baseball cap! This is a formal wedding outfit. How adventurous! Sadista Cappogrande of The Fashionista Army line showed a line of sheet metal tubes that rub the skin raw and cause bleeding! Also available in infants' sizes.

Everyone was talking about "what would the New Black be"? Apparently White is the New Black. Black is now the Old Black, and lacking all of its Old Black Magic. In addition, Green is the new Red, Tan is the New Gray and Brown is still Brown. Tall is short, fat is thin, night is day and up is down. In is Out and Out is in. Truly darlings, it was a grand week, but I shan't be returning next year, as my face needs its two year tune up and rotation procedure at the hospital in Gstaad. Au Revoir!

2002-01-30T22:26:00.000-08:00

THE VCC MUSIC SHELF

You know, as a renowed afficianado of music, people are always saying to me, "Hey! Get the hell off my foot!" That really doesn't have anything to do with music, but I am frequently asked what's new in the world of melody. Here are my picks for this month:

THE PATHETIC LOSERS - Don't Buy Our Album
This is a really good record, and I'm not sure why almost nobody bought it. It may have had something to do with the group's name and album title, but I may just be paranoid. Anyway, check it out, it's kind of like Smashing Pumpkins meets Gentle Giant with a soupcon of The Buggles.

ANGRY GRRLLZZZ - No Boys Aloud
I thought the title was a cute pun, then I found out it was just a typo. These former waitresses from Beloit are keeping the pissed-off chick rock flame alive and going, with their anthems "I'd Rather Have a Girl," and "I Love Lorena Bobbit." Buy before they grind their teeth down to nothing.

H8 8 MY D8 - Disdeconsplosion
I usually don't like German synthcore, but I couldn't resist their witty lyrics such as "Bellleeeeearrgghhhuhhhh" and my personal favorite "Greereeeghhhhhhulllllpppfhhhhttt!" It passes my usual test for industrial music: really REALLY COOL when you put it on as you go in your car through the automatic car wash and you are wrapped in a giant cocoon of cloth, water and suds.

REED TYLER - The High Cost of Underachievment
More in the mopey indie rock tradition, but what can I say, I dig that kind of pain the most. This is like Guided by Voices meets The Eels on the way to Pavement's house, but the car breaks down, so they have to hitchhike and are picked up by Bachman Turner Overdrive, who take them to a bar where they get drunk with Klaatu and The Strokes, and play pinochle with Iggy Pop, Cyndi Lauper and Guy Lombardo and His Royal Canadians, while The London Philharmonic Orchestra sneaks up behind them and smashes chairs over their heads, leading to a fist fight with Re-Flex and Esquerita, while Nelly and SisQo look on in admiration at the sight of Sly Fox evisercating Right Said Fred and severing the entrails to a gathering of Gary Pucket and The Union Gap, The Banana Splits and Boris the Sprinkler to the accompaniment of Weird Al Yankovic and Frankie Yankovic (no relation). Whew.

2002-01-29T21:49:00.000-08:00

A JOKE I MADE AT WORK

At work, they think I'm pretty damn funny, but then again, they have no lives (unlike me, er, yeah, sure). I tend to refrain from making smart-ass comments in the office as much as possible, but sometimes THEY JUST SET ME UP TOO WELL AND I HAVE TO TAKE THE BAIT.

Anyway, one of my rapidly aging female co-workers (Before you complain, that is a very mild euphamism and I could have been MUCH MEANER. But I am a nice guy. At times.) was complaining that she had gained so much weight. "My head is so is big, it looks like a bowling ball," she whined. "Aw, it does not!" I countered, "Bowling balls aren't white!" They laughed for hours. It's fun to
give with one hand, take away with the other.

2002-01-22T22:33:00.000-08:00

YES, AS A MATTER OF FACT, I AM POLTICALLY CORRECT. NOW SHUT THE HELL UP.

I've decided its time to expose this whole "I'm Politically Incorrect, and Proud of It" stance as so much BULLSHIT that it could fertilize the entire Napa Valley. I am tired of unreconstructed Right Wingers critcizing anyone with a decent, humanitarian bone in their body (that is, anyone to the left of Trent Lott) as some sort of stuck-up, elitist asshole. I need to take a deep breath here.

Let's get one thing straight, pal. Republicans and other assorted nuts to the right of them are the Elitist, country-clubbing, old-money industrialist SCUM that are out to exclude anyone that makes under $100,000 a year from having a voice or place in this country or anywhere else. (And let's not even talk about Libertarians, they're so screwed up it makes the insides of my eyelids itch.) And those who support increased opportunities for those who do not subscribe to Town and Country (i.e. not rich White guys) are not some sort of "Nazis" trying to inflict their politics upon you. Look, Mr. Hyperbole, they are not some sort of Stalinist junta that will force you against your will to vote for Ralph Nader. THEY'RE JUST TRYING TO STOP YOU FROM BEING ASSHOLES. Beacuse life is better without assholes! They're trying to stop you from illegally keeping people from getting jobs, or housing opportunities, or public benefits, just because they don't have the same color skin, or religion, or national origin or sexual orientation as you, you self-righteous old gas bags. And obviously asking nicely is not gonna keep you from acting that way; you have no idea what assholes you truly are, otherwise you wouldn't be acting that way. So, some laws are in order here.

Even the whole twisted, elitist spin in the perjorative catch-all "Politically Correct" gives away your ludricrous snobbery: "How dare those socialist bastards hold those views...and then they have the gall TO ACTUALLY BELIEVE THEY ARE CORRECT! How uppity!" Well I have news for you, idiot: everyone believes that their own political views are the correct views, OTHERWISE THEY WOULD NOT HOLD THEM. And yes, my own views are correct. Yours are wrong. For you not to feel the same way means that you agree with me, and well, then, just what are we arguing about then?

The fall-out from the coinage of this back-handed insult of "Politically Correct" is most notably the TV show "Politically Incorrect" with Bill Maher. I am ambivalent about the show; I think it is a good idea and certainly vastly more interesting that Maher's stand-up routines. On the down side, his libertarian diatribes and Martyr-on-the-Cross-of-the-First-Amendment posing have grown more and more tiresome. On the up side, it is at times amusing to see whatever hot blonde Republican spokesbabe debate the fallout from the Enron fiasco with Mr. T and Danny Bonaduce. On its bad nights it can be as appalling as Access Hollywood; but Maher does from time to time let some really interesting fringe points of view onto the corporate-owned airwaves, like the special guest viewer panelist who called the Founding Fathers of Our Nation a bunch of assholes because most of them owned slaves while writing about "all men are created equal." This is a point of view I do not share at all, but I appreciate that it was given a forum.

But to me the most annoying thing about the show is the title: "Oooh, look at me, I'm so POLITICALLY INCORRECT, I am daring just for coming out here! I am going against the grain of what is popular! I am a Rebel, just like those that founded This Great Nation! I'm like Thomas Paine or some crap like that! My opinions are dangerous! I could get killed just for SAYING some of things!" Okay, Bill, calm down. True, some of things said on your show are daring, but here's the point now: IT SHOULDN'T BE RISKY AT ALL TO SAY WHATEVER YOU WANT IN THIS NATION, WHERE SUPPOSEDLY WE HAVE GUARANTEED FREEDOM OF SPEECH. Sad to say, it is in fact risky. Maher came close to losing his show after a few offhanded comments about our armed forces after the September 11th attacks. True, he can say whatever he wants on any street corner; but once large corporations are owners of the means by which is he speaking, well, now just hold on a second there, that's a different story. There is the tyranny of the stockholders to answer to.

But anyway, anybody that proudly claims to be "Poltically Incorrect" is an idiot. You are literally saying that your own views are wrong. Before you metaphorically tear me a new one, I realize there is meant to be irony at play in this. But what kind of an Orwellian Brainfuck world are we living in where it is a shame to be correct and a point of pride to be incorrect? We're through the looking glass Alice, and there's no time for tea. Is it me?

2002-01-21T22:11:00.000-08:00

BOY AM I JEALOUS!

This guy is my kind of writer! Wish I had written these stupid, retarded stories that pull the rug out from under you. Heavily influenced by that awesome work of monumental achievement, Steve Martin's "Cruel Shoes." What a genius. What a genius! What? A genius? But who is he/she? There are no clues, no e-mail, no title, no links. This must remain a mystery. But check out this great timewasting crap by clickinghere.

2002-01-19T23:30:00.000-08:00

IRONY WILL NEVER DIE

I'm glad to see that for the most-part the various punDUHts in the media have realized that the grand pronoucements of the death of irony were, er, premature. Or, as Mark Twain once probably didn't actually say, "the reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated." But it wasn't THOSE tsk-tsking people who jumped the gun, oh no, it was some OTHER impudent writers. Give me a vacation! ('Give me a break' is not sufficient here.)

Look people, irony is not dead. Never was. Never will be. CASE CLOSED. It would take more than a mere act of war to fundamentally change human nature. I think ultimately the major fall-out from 9/11 will be from here on out a tendancy of white people to squint really hard at Arab-looking peoples' shoes, especially on airplanes. And why can irony not be killed? Put your hand down, Chief, that was a rhetorical question. I'll tell you why.

Because Irony, its bridesmaids Cynicism, Skepticism and Sarcasm, and its deformed sister Poetic Justice, are not some mere "trend in humor," not some "hipper than thou" stance or pose. They are a FUNDAMENTAL WORLDVIEW of a generation that was breast fed at the glass teat of Television and has been exposed to 100,000 times as many television commericials and music videos as poems, plays or literature. These stances are THE ONLY SANE RESPONSE to a culture weaned on an endless diet of slicky produced, catchily orchestrated, brightly colored, tightly edited L I E S . Sure this may sound a little "crazy left-winger hippie nut" to you. But, my firends, what is a television commercial? A lie, isn't it? Or at least an exaggeration. Drinking that beer will NOT get you big-breasted models to pork. Using that haircolor will NOT turn you into a superstar model. And calling Miss Cleo will NOT allow you to see the future. IT JUST WON'T.

I believe it was as a child when I first learned that those TV commercials were not helpful public service announcements informing the public of the newest toys or the latest and greatest advancements that science has provided as a HELP just for YOU, THE DEAR PUBLIC, but nothing but a SLICK package of HYPE designed to drain money from your wallet while providing a small portion of what was actually promised. And I learned this great lesson not in school, but in that great American Institution, Mad Magazine. God Bless Al Jaffee is what I have to say.

But all this is OKAY. It is endemically part of the system. And I (and I hope we) can LIVE WITH THAT. As long as I have my good buddies, skepticism, sarcasm, and irony, I am protected. They are my armor and my shield. They are the hip waders that allow me to swim through the swamp of consumer bullshit that I must ford EVERY SINGLE DAMN DAY. But they do protect me, so everything's all right. I have no brand loyalty whatsoever. I buy on the price point. I make a point of never remembering what product a commercial is advertising. And I NEVER NEVER NEVER go out and buy a product as a result of seeing a commercial. I buy liquidations and closeouts. I buy used CD's and books (okay, I don't buy used clothes, that's disgusting). I recycle. THEY'RE NOT GOING TO ENSLAVE ME! Ah, who am I kidding. No matter what I think, or say, I end up giving them all my money anyway. AHA! Weren't expecting me to say that, were you? That, my friend, is IRONY!

Irony is a part of all of this. It is encoded deep within my DNA at this point. It is a survival tactic. And I intend to live a whole lot longer. So you see, Irony cannot be killed, or die out. It would take the death of the entirety of American cosumer culture for that to happen. For it is this culture that created it. So get used to it, pundits. Irony is here for the long haul. Or...IS IT??????

Next time: "TV Skinny"

2002-01-16T22:16:00.000-08:00

BEER AND CLOTHING IN LAS VEGAS: Episode Three, The White Trash Strikes Back

I come to in a floaty haze, my brain clouded with memories of fireworks exploding, wildberry schnapps, and trying to kiss the closest woman at the stroke of midnight. I stumble down the strip with the rest of the walking dead, desparately in search of a porta-potty and a new skull to replace my current one. So far, I have learned one truism: give a White Guy a beer and a funny cardboard hat and he's liable to feel he can do just about anything. Even those forced to improvise can enjoy the fun...it's the Bud Light 12 pack empty box as a hat! Talk about American ingenuity!

As the looming faux historical edifices dwarf myself and a million other drunks stumbling along the curbstones and potted palms, as I am surrounded by the Mirage's exploding volcano and The Treasure Island's pirate ship battle, I am reminded again how in the moment I really am, surrounded by foolish illusions made solid that cannot stand. I keep thinking of an album cover, I believe from Little Feat, a painting by Neon Park, showing an abandoned and decaying Vegas, with collapsing ruins overgrown with desert brush and cacti, with no humans present. But I guess Vegas must endure; if online gambling that you can do at home in your underwear isn't killing Vegas forever then I guess nothing ever will. The thought that one day this permanent side show, this concrete carnival, will dry up and blow away, the dreams that created it as long gone as water in the desert, has yet to be proven.

It's about 1:30 and the clean-up brigade is already swinging into action. At the south end of The Strip, I see a phalanx of vehicles and sirens. Led by a swath of about 18 motorcycle cops, a fleet of 22 street sweepers, 16 dump trucks and 11 street vacuum cleaners (including the "Barber Litter Picker") begin their relentless plodding attack on the pavement. The whole strip is spotless and scrubbed by 2 a.m...

At about 2:00 a.m. I wandered off the Strip to a seedy, nearly defunct dive, strictly "locals only"; a forlorn liquoring hole that was last remodeled when George W. Bush was wearing footie pajamas (so...last month, I guess?). It was called the Pair-A-Dice or The Lucky Streak, or something fittingly ironic like that. No one in that place had been involved in a lucky streak since the Nixon administration, unless you count bad luck. It was there that I downed a few Screwdrivers and surveyed the sorry dregs of humanity before me. A few gimmie-capped oldsters with tobacco stained fingernails fornlornly playing video poker and knocking back bottles of no-name beer. At that point I could only bring forth into my mind that famous Kubrickian riposte, "I was in a world of shit, but I was alive." And I guess that was really saying something.

As I returned to the strip, I became mesmerized by the giant signs in front of each megaresort with their constantly changing messages: "See the priceless treasures of European Art Museums/Krispy Kreme Doughnuts Now Available." We've got Venice, Paris, Rome, England, China, New York...all represented in large form. It's like a permanent world's fair, but with booze, gambling and hookers that come to your room -- excuse me, "Adult Entertainers."

The problem now: still only about 4:00 am, and 8 hours until I can check into my room! Arrgh! I am never doing this again! What a dolt I am! I wend my way to the only 24 hour buffet in town, which is as (not) good as you would imagine. That kills a couple hours, but now what. I slip into the sports book and find a chair. I manage to catch a few log sawing minutes before I am rousted by hotel security. Eventually I go to a movie theater hoping that I can get a couple hours of undisturbed sleep in there, but it's no good. I am so tired that I can't sleep. So I actually watch "Not Another Teen Movie." Uh, yeah. Wait for cable, people.

Finally I got into my room and was able to get to sleep by 4:00 p.m. I slept for 16 hours, and dreamed of the Mona Lisa drinking Budweiser and eating a Krispy Kreme Donut.

I spent three more days in Vegas, since I took a week off work. Why not. The rest of my time there was much more laid back. I played the Austin Powers slot machine a few times, drank a little bit more, did some shopping. I hit a few more buffets, and consumed the equivalent of the entire contents of several zoos, and Sea World. There was no more time for world-weary philosophizing, just being in the moment and experiencing the Vegasness of it all. Somehow, I get all thoughtful about The Meaning of It All whenever I go there. I guess it has to do with the epic scale and Sodom-Gomorrah aspects of the place. Funny. But let me tell you, Vegas makes those places look like a sandbox at a nursery school. This place is industrialized, my friends. And like it or not, Las Vegas is America.

2002-01-16T21:42:00.000-08:00

HUZZAH! ACCEPTANCE FROM THE MASSES

Let me see here, I got myself a review of this weblog it appears. It's a good review! No, ah, wait, it's a bad review. Oh, okay, no. It's a good review. Glad I got that straight. And it's by a teenage guy in Scotland! That's really cool. Check it out here.

2002-01-15T21:10:00.000-08:00

I promise the ending of my Las Vegas adventures will be posted soon, but for now, here's

YET ANOTHER COMMERCIAL THING THAT BUGS THE CRAP OUT OF ME

Well, folks, you know its movie awards season again because of all the damn commercials on TV. Here's something I noticed starting about a year or two ago, and they are CONTINUING it for now and forseeable future. "Gene Hackman is the winner of a Golden Globe Nomination for Best Actor!" NO! HE IS NOT! He did NOT WIN ANYTHING YET! He was ONLY NOMINATED! There has not been any winning yet, okay? Yeah, I know, I shouldn't be outraged. "What? Hollywood? Hyping? Perish the thought!" Yeah, yeah, I know. It still bugs me, okay? Don't do it. My new motto: A NOMINATION IS NOT A WIN. So shut up.

2002-01-08T22:57:00.000-08:00

BEER AND CLOTHING IN LAS VEGAS, EPISODE TWO, ATTACK OF THE DRUNKS
(Scroll down to read Part One)

As I stroll through the casino I smell something odd. Could it be... CIGARETTE SMOKE!!?? Yes kiddies, I forget what reality is like, living here in El Ley, where tobacco has become akin to pornography: something you can enjoy only in the privacy of your own home. Before you peg me as a smoker, let me say, I am all for removing all manifestations of tobacco from public places. I'm glad no one in this here burg can smoke in any restaurant -- it's allowed most places to put tables out on the sidewalk for the nicotine fiends. So Los Angeles has gotten somewhat of a pedestrian/sidewalk culture out of the whole deal! Okay, it still ain't no Paris yet, but change happens slowly. Still, it's weird that people can't even smoke in bars and nightclubs anymore...but I have to say I'm starting to get used to it.

Vegas, totally different story. There are people here, smoking lustily! People in evening wear! Blowing the smoke out forcefully, straight ahead of them! Talking to each other with lit ciagarettes bobbing up and down between their lips! WOW! It's like going to the zoo to look at an exotic animal or something! Here we see Homo Nicotinus, commonly known as the American Smoker. Clearly an Endangered Species! Here it is in its natural habitat: the Vegas Casino! Take pictures now, before they're gone forever...

As I sit in the Sports Book, I watch the ball drop in New York, live, on the giant video screens. It's 9:00 west coast time. Better start moving.

10:00 There's a damn slot machine now for every show on TV Land! I Dream of Jeannie, Bewitched, Addams Family, The Munsters, My Mother The Car and Meet The Press! Wacky! There's strange themes for a lot of them like "Full of Sheep," "Pull My Mango" and the most inscrutably retarded one I saw all week: "Chainsaws and Toasters"! What The??

10:30 Back out on the Strip, the untamed throng roams freely. The street has been closed to auto traffic. There are Police Officers that are Mounted. They're also on horseback. Good Mornin'! One hotel offers a "glass for plastic exchange" with stacks of plastic cups by the front door. It seems you can't drink alcohol on the street out of a glass container between 6:00 p.m. New Years' Eve and 6:00 am the next morning. Plastic containers are cool, though. More than cool, actually. There's a stand every 50 feet selling Bud Light in plastic bottles and these "Yard Long Margaritas" in big plastic tubes. Get trashed ladies!

11:00 Things are getting post-apocalyptic. I want something to drink, but to be seen wandering the streets with a plastic cup full of yellow piss water known as Bud would be so wrong... SCREW THAT, I NEED BEER! Peer pressure rules. I also buy a flask of schnapps to take pulls from.

11:30 It's getting way out of control. Wall to wall humanity. Drunken frat boys wearing plastic viking helmets. Some of them drinking out of the plastic viking helmets. Later, puking into the plastic viking helmets. (I think I got the order right on that.) Teenage Britney Spears clones in leather pants and almost not there tops begging for a spanking. Not begging me though. The aroma of ganga wafts through the air. Girls lifting up their tops...Madness!

11:45: I've come up with a new equation. Here's the best I can do it with these characters: (*B + DWT) x nye =t2 That's infinite amounts of free beer + dumb white trash times New Years Eve equals trouble squared! There's a guy selling cheesy souvenir "Happy 2002" t-shirts. How lame is that! They have some stupid cartoon drawings on them. That's pathetic. They're only five bucks? One, please.

12:00 Okay, it's a little hazy. I think there were some fireworks or something. I passed out, but luckily did not fall. I was held upright by the pressure of the surrounding humanity as everyone was packed tighter than sardines in a slave ship inside one of those girls' leather pants pockets. Or something.

TO BE CONCLUDED!

2002-01-05T13:27:00.000-08:00

BEER AND CLOTHING IN LAS VEGAS or, How I Spent My New Year's Eve

WARNING: The part you like best about the following story is the only part that's true.

It's all been said before, too many times to count, but upon my return to normalcy from Las Vegas (and if Hollywood means normalcy then brother, you know you have been someplace totally unhinged), I feel compelled to say it: Las Vegas can't possibly exist. Or it shouldn't exist anyway. But it's very existance, nay, dominance and prominance proves in concrete form that morality is full of shit and debauchery has triumphed forever. You be the judge: it's either fully devoted religious practitioners such as buddhist monks wearing sackcloth and beating themselves with boards in unheated Tibetan mountain monasteries attempting to seek God (and I'm generously discounting those religious zealots who make others suffer unspeakable tortures in the name of hewing closely to the "right" way of living such as The Taliban or the followers of David Koresh or Jim Jones), OR, those who have fully embraced the "wrong" way living who frequent huge, plush edifices and drink alcohol, gamble all their money, and gorge themselves on the finest foods until their stomachs burst, in climate controlled comfort in the middle of the desert. Just compare, which ones are nicer: the Vatican and the holy sites of Mecca, or the Bellagio Hotel and Paris Las Vegas? Okay, they're all huge and impressive, they all attract millions of vistors, they're all loaded with fine artworks. But you can't play baccarat or get unlimited cheese blintzes at the Vatican. And you sure as shooting can't get Baby Back Ribs or Mai-Tais anywhere close to Mecca.
BUT, here's my question. If Las Vegas is SO WRONG, how can it exist at all? Truly a puzzle for the ages.

I pulled into Las Vegas at about 5:00 on New Year's Eve. I wanted to be there for New Year's Eve, but I didn't want to pay the huge premium for a room that EVERY HOTEL was charging. The lowest possible rate I found was $169 a night. The following night at the same hotel was $29. So, stupidly, I thought, "No problem, I'll just wander around all night, going from hotel to hotel, and check in to the hotel the next morning. I can do it, I've stayed up all night before." Uh. Yeah.

So I dropped my bags at my hotel and checked them until the next day. However, one of my bags was open, revealing a boom box. "We're not allowed to hold on to that," the buzz cut guy in a bad Chinese style jacket told me. "Security reasons." SIGH. I'm not about to explain to him that I'm not a terrorist, but I didn't want to get my trip off on a bad foot. So I take it with me and decide to leave it in the Casino at Caesar's Palace. The next day I'll come back and claim it at the Lost and Found. Or, if it's gone, then it's gone. It's falling apart anyway and I just don't want to carry it around with me. So, now I just leave it sitting next to a slot machine and wander off. As I meander away, I turn back to notice Several security guards talking to each other on walkie-talkies. As I head toward the buffet, I hear loud sirens and an annoucement that the whole casino has to be evacuated. I ask a nearby guard what's going on and he just says "Security reasons" as I smile.

I move across the street to another buffet, but the line is about two hours long. But suddenly I have a brain storm. I cut to the front of the line to talk to the hostess. She is a beautiful, skinny ice bitch of woman. She also happens to be Asian, so she reminds me way too much of Lucy Liu's character on Ally McBeal. Of course, I am immediately in love with her, but she could snap my spine with one bad look. She doesn't want to hear from me at all and points me to the back of the line, about half a mile away. Nevertheless, I screw up my courage and outrage, and tell the hostess, "Look, I'm a diabetic, if I don't eat something in the next five minutes, I'm going to be on the floor seizing and in convulsions. How do you think that would look to the other customers?" I was seated immediately. Though I believe only a disciplinary reaction from her boss was preventing her from asking me to see my insulin syringe.

Although I had to pay the special "Screw You It's A Holiday" premium price, I proceeded to eat like a Roman Emporer, or at least Diamond Jim Brady. Am I a capitalist whore or what? I filled my gut with about 50 shrimp, a dozen crab legs, marinated red peppers, braised vegetables, ribs, prime rib, lobster bisque, two 3 pound lobsters, decent champagne, Coke, milk, and assorted sugar free desserts. I definitely subscribe to the concept that everything the casino takes out of me at the slot machines, I'm going to get back from them at the buffet table.

TO BE CONTINUED!

2001-12-18T23:29:00.000-08:00

A QUICK THOUGHT
I wonder if Janis Joplin ever got a pearl necklace?

(Assist from Scott Hewitt)

2001-12-18T23:02:00.000-08:00

SIX YEARS TOO LATE, HERE'S AN O.J. SIMPSON JOKE

So, OJ's doing stand-up comedy at open mike night, and he comes off stage to thunderous applause. The other comics congratulate him: "OJ, you killed!"

NOW HERE'S A BIT I STOLE FROM GEORGE CARLIN'S WASTEBASKET

If you add milk to Half-and-Half, does it become Three-Quarters-and-One-Quarter?

2001-12-16T22:38:00.000-08:00

BOB HOPE LIVES!

I'm reminded of a cover story from one of the supermarket rags a couple years ago which ominously proclaimed BOB HOPE TRAGEDY! It showed Bob Hope looking REALLY BAD, like the grandfather of the Mummy from The Mummy Returns after he was hit by a car, thrown off a cliff and fed on by vultures for seven or eight months. But even if that humorous hyperbole were true, I ask you dear reader, WHERE IS THIS TRAGEDY? Yeah, he looks like SHIT, but he is EXTREMELY OLD. He has lived a FULL LIFE. He is close to 100 years old, he's loaded, he owns half of California, he had a decades long film career, he screwed movie starlets, toured all over the world and went into war zones multiple times, coming out UNSCATHED each time and living to just about THE ABSOLUTE MAXIMUM AGE A HUMAN BEING CAN ACHIEVE. And he smirked his way through this fabulous career WITHOUT EVEN REALLY BEING THAT FUNNY!!! So what is so damn TRAGIC here? NOTHING, THAT'S WHAT! Bob Hope is the man! He went so far on so little that he puts Bill Gates to shame! So Bob Hope does not pity himself. DO NOT CRY FOR HIM. He has had THE LIFE. Now he will be dying soon, as soon as he stops drinking the blood of virgins to keep himself alive. So let us not mourn Bob Hope, let us celebrate him: not in spite of the fact that he was so lame, but BECAUSE of that fact. You the man, Bob. Go quietly now, behind that final curtain.

2001-11-14T22:13:00.000-08:00

ANOTHER TV COMMERCIAL THAT'S BUGGING ME...

There's this commerical for Sam's Club, which is Wal-Mart's answer to Costco, for those who don't know. This commercial features a lovably non-threatening bland family. One of the lines is "We go there for one thing and we leave with a full cart." Okay, THIS IS A BAD THING. I am not going to GO to a store who promises that, once inside their golden gates, I will throw all reason out the window and SPEND SPEND SPEND until I fill up AN ENTIRE SHOPPING CART with stupid Made In Malaysia plastic CRAP that I can't possibly need or afford. If I cram one more DRYER SHEET into my tiny one bedroom apartment with all the other junk that's in there already, the place is going to EXPLODE like Mr. Creosote in Monty Python's The Meaning of Life. Catch my drift Wal-Martinets? You're not gettin' into this consumer's wallet with that ad pitch. Back to the drawing board for you.

2001-11-14T22:04:00.000-08:00

AND NOW, AN IMPORTANT MESSAGE

Hi. I'm Bob Dole's pen. Remember me? I used to be seen in important places of power, in the Senate, the White House, and all along the campaign trail. But, where have I been lately, you ask? Nowheresville, baby! Invisible City! Do Nothing Ranch! Boy, this retirement sucks the big one. I've been used to hanging out with important people, signing legislation, going to all the "in" spots, all while being clutched in the sweaty, regrettably injured right palm of Bob Dole himself. But let's face it, the last few years have been a big disappointment. I haven't even done a damn Viagra commercial since last year! And Dole is driving me nuts! He barely leaves the house! He's on the net all day, poking around the Drudge Report and e-mailing his old Army buddies. The only time he and I get outta his home office is to walk the dog! I'm just disgusted with it. So here's the deal. If any celebrities out there, no matter how marginally famous, need a pen to clutch constantly, I'm your writing implement. I don't care what race, gender or political inclination you may be, just get me out of this place! Of course, Charles Nelson Reilly, you can stop calling me. I'm not interested. I'm only a pen after all, and I can't bend like THAT. I mean it. Don't make me file a restraining order. Again.

2001-11-12T21:32:00.000-08:00

THINGS THAT ARE REALLY PISSING ME OFF JUST ABOUT NOW!

The Action News Team:
Take you and your goddamn Stormwatch and shove it up your ass!

The Tobacco Industry:
No, I would not like kill myself for a nicotine high, thank you. Call me when pot is legal.

Clothing Made in Mongolia:
AARGHH!! Never mind "Made in USA," we can't even have stuff made in frickin' China anymore, they have to ship the work to where they can pay one cent per hour instead of three cents. What's next? A car made in Malaysia??? Oops, we already have that....

Smokers Who Complain That You Can't Smoke Inside:
Good. Let em smoke outside and bitch all they want, until they start gasping for breath with their reduced lung capacity and hacking tobacky flavored sputum all over the pavement. I for one enjoy the smoke-free bars and restaurants that we have here in L.A. I'd rather slowly destroy only my liver, and not my lungs as well. A death wish is one thing, but crazy is crazy. I don't give a good tinker's damn how ridiculous it sounds to any of you. Go outside smokers, and smoke in the damn parking lot, and get rained on, and enjoy your miserable, disgusting, murderous habit like the fucking social outcasts you so richly deserve to be. Or better yet, fucking quit, you brutally stupid morons. I don't want my tax dollars going to pay for your hospital care when you start coughing up your lungs. Don't like it? Tough shit. Deal with it, asshole. That's right, you're an asshole. Think I'm a health Nazi? Fine. Fuck you AND your persecution complex, you worthless piece of shit. Now quit, before I REALLY get all Dr. Phil on ya.

Tupperware:
I just never "got" it.

2001-10-10T19:08:00.000-07:00

Upcoming releases from Publishers' Weekly Preview Column: Al Franken is rushing into publication a new sequel to his previous bestseller, titledRush Limbaugh Is A Big, Fat Deaf Idiot. Smart-asses like myself will not hesitate to point out that Rush is not able to hear anything at all from the left ("It's funny because it's true!" - Homer Simpson), although he can still hear a little bit from the right.

2001-09-11T20:46:00.000-07:00

STUPID BLOODY TUESDAY

You know, somehow, I don't feel like writing anything funny today for some reason. To the people who did this: whoever you are, and whatever your motivations were, I sit here in the immediate aftermath of this patently evil scheme knowing one thing for certain: you failed in whatever you were trying to accomplish. I hope it was worth your life and the life of thousands of innocent people. I'm going to try and get some sleep now.

2001-09-05T17:32:00.000-07:00

STUCK IN THE SEVENTIES?

Maybe with the new millenium we, as a culture, have finally moved on, at least I would like to think so. But the evidence seems to indicate that perhaps were are all still stuck in the Seventies. I ask you, if the Eighties were post-modern, and the Nineties were post-post-modern, then what is modern? And doesn't "modern" = "the present?" And why does the Oldies section of a record store stop at 1969? Led Zeppelin and such haven't put out any records for over 20 years now, but they are STILL NOT OLD ENOUGH to get back there into that bin with Eddie Cochran and Bill Haley? How about The Doors? Their lead singer has been DEAD since I was FIVE YEARS OLD, and I am IN MY MIDDLE THIRTIES. These guys are still in the same section with Smashmouth and Train? Give me a friggin break! I guess they get to stay in that section because somehow, against all odds and common sense, they keep putting out new records.

I'd like to think that we've moved on, but THAT SEVENTIES SHOW is still on the air at Fox, and until, in a Fraiser-like sequel, it gets usurped by THAT EIGHTIES SHOW, I am still not convinced that we haven't loosened the vise-grip this cocaine-besotted, macrame-laden, wood-paneled decade continues to have on our pop culture. And what is one of the big blockbuster fall film releases for 2001? Why, it's the live action version of friggin' SCOOBY DOO (I am predicting that finally Oscar will reward Mr. Freddie Prinze Jr. for his stellar performance in this monumental filmic acheivement -- oh, no, wait, I forgot, he sucks big time. Never mind.) So pop in that Grand Funk eight track and turn on Nick at Nite for those Brady Bunch reruns, and Keep On Truckin, 'cause the Seventies are here to stay, apparently. God help us all.

2001-08-24T16:07:00.000-07:00

YOU'RE NOT FOOLING ANYONE, PIZZA HUT

First, they try to kill us with a pizza that has so much cheese on it that the only place left to shove any cheese in is to inject into the inside of the crust. Then they bring out some some kind of special "stuffed pizza" which is nothing more than one pizza glued on top of another pizza! Then, the latest one, they put some crimping in the outside crust which magically turns it into "breadsticks." You're supposed to then dip that into more oil or mayonnaise. The next thing they have in the pipeline is a cheese IV bag that just pumps melted mozzarella directly into your arteries, and a pizza breakfast cereal, which is nothing more than leftover slices from the night before cut up by a machine into one inch squares. Great with maple syrup!

2001-08-22T14:12:00.000-07:00

An amazing new scientific discovery in genetic research! Anecodtal,I'll admit. You be the judge. Ever notice that whatever the ethnicity, all sportscasters look the same: sprayed helmet of black hair, overly large facial features. They all sound the same, with a constipated speech cadance and and a tendency to EMPHASIZE the wrong WORDS that would disgust William Shatner. Yes, it's The Sportscaster Gene. Check it out: Marv Albert, Fred Roggin, Rob Fukuzaki, Carlos Del Valle, Chris Berman, half the guys on ESPN, even some of the women have that same sportscastery vibe, for lack of a better word. Are these traits genetically endemic, or are they learned over a lifetime? It's the classic nature vs. nurture debate, and clearly a scientific study is overdue and in order. I am now ready to accept a large federal grant for this urgently needed study.

2001-08-15T12:36:00.000-07:00

LATEST SPORTS SCORE

This score hot off the wire...

Jurassic Park 3
American Pie 2
Rush Hour 2
(Actual marquee at the Hollywood Galaxy theaters in Hollywood, Ca.)

Jurassic Park now goes on to play Lethal Weapon in the finals!

2001-08-10T23:20:00.000-07:00

Just kill me right now. Until I saw those absolutely brain-shreddingly abysmal AT&T commercials with that colossal suck ass Carrot Top, I never thought I would pine longingly for the subtle comedy stylings of David Arquette! (Devo was right: things just devolve over time.) You know now what to get me for my birthday this year: a skull-crushing bludgeoning for Mr. Top. (Preferably recorded on DVD, but VHS will do just fine, thank you.)

2001-08-07T18:46:00.000-07:00

As a public service to the minority that actually voted for the First Vacationer:

2001-08-07T16:32:00.000-07:00

BEST DEFINITION OF IRONY THAT REVEALED ITSELF RECENTLY:

(Irony that goes beyond just an unxpected or unlikley happening, but evidences an O.Henryesque twist ending with a dollop of poetic justice thrown in for good measure, which is I think what most people really mean these days when they use the term "irony.")

Ironic that George W. Bush is going to end up making the decision against stem cell research and cloning, when he himself is probably the best argument against cloning around.

2001-08-06T22:02:00.000-07:00

PLACES THEY HAVEN'T LOOKED FOR CHANDRA LEVY

The Janitor's Closet at the Rainbow Room
The Cincinatti Zoo
Under a bar of soap in Chuck McCann's guest bathroom
Inside an Oki-Dog
Monica Lewinsky's den
The air filter of a 1963 Studebaker Golden Hawk
Legoland
A vegetarian restaurant in Kuala Lumpur
The Prime Minister of Iceland's sauna
The Snack Aisle @ the 99cents Only Store

2001-08-01T00:02:00.000-07:00

UPCOMING COMPUTER BUGS

The Alice Ghostley Virus
Prints various candid poses of the former "Bewitched" and "Designing Women" regular and on your desktop, then vomits.

The YooHoo Scorpion
Referred to as a scorpion because it wipes out Mp3 files of Sting.

The Lick-Your-Toes Letter
Appears to be a letter from an intimate loved one, offering to lick your toes for hours and hours. Once the bug gets inside your computer, it promptly goes to sleep and forgets all about this promise.

The Steve Buscemi Worm
As Steve Buscemi has appeared in almost every movie ever, the goal of this program is to appear in every computer it can, but only low budget, arty ones.

Echelon Chaney
"The Program of a Thousand Faces," can masquerade as an infinite number of harmless requests for data or e-mail messages, until it finally gets so caught up in its disguise that it can't remember to damage your computer. Ironic indeed!

The So-Called "$300 Tax Refund" Scam
Purportedly launched by a cryptic faction of the U.S. Government known in underground circles as "The White House," in order to lull a braindead populace into happy compliance. Personally, I don't buy that tall tale.

The Hard Drive Crusher
All it does is draw a smiley face on your toolbar, but it gains acclaim for its fearsome monicker.

2001-07-29T21:25:00.000-07:00

Hey gang, two popes walk into a bar, preferably Innocent II and Urban IV, or it could work just as well with one of the anti-popes...anyway, they walk into this bar--- oh, I forgot the bar is in Cleveland, and they ask the bartender where they can get their miters drycleaned! Well, the bartender takes one look at them and says, "I dunno, but I can sell you a talking burro!" Just then, this drunk guy who has been in the bathroom up until now comes out with his pants around his ankles and says "You better get a mop in there, I was so drunk I dumped all over the floor." At that point, Pope Urban IV turns to the guy and says "Why doesn't the talking burro clean it up!!!" HA HA HA! Okay, I'm really still working on that one. Maybe I should play up the anti-pope angle.

2001-07-27T13:30:00.000-07:00

SWEET, SWEET VALIDATION

Yes, the exact same two animal stories that I made fun of (see below) were also ruthlessly mocked on last night's edition of The Daily Show. I am a part of the zeitgeist! Or should I say...site geist? HA HA HA!!!

2001-07-25T21:08:00.000-07:00

IT'S GREEK TO ME. AND GEORGIAN. AND URDU.

For those concerned about such things, it is now possible to register your internet domain name in Cherokee, Judeo-Berber and Old Icelandic. Yeah, I can just hear it now: "We could stave off the creditors and keep the web site from going out of business...if only we could crack that lucrative Esperanto-speaking market!"

You can also get it in several dozen more languages that I've never even heard of. And I'm smart. Coca-Cola should be writing a big ass check to Verisign right about now. Check it out here.

2001-07-24T23:08:00.000-07:00

AND PEOPLE WONDER WHY I THINK THE NEWS IS PATHETIC

Look, I love puns, probably even more than most people. But I don't want them in my news dammit! I don't look for Alan Greenspan quotes on Bazooka Joe comics or Dixie Riddle Cups, and I don't expect terrible groaners in my news sources! Is that too much too ask? On the front page of today's Los Angeles Times, the "Column One" piece, which admittedly is not breaking news but a "feature" piece, was a miserable piece of shit. Literally. The story, such as it was, concerned a guy who has a business removing dog turds from people's yards. A stupid idea for an article, but terrible puns abound on top of everything. They quote the guy as saying, "it's a crappy business, but it's picking up," and "we want to be number one in the number two business!" ARGH!

Then, as usual, the Ten O Clock news on channel five was groaning under the weight of punny cute animal stories: "Up next, a denist turns a swan into a lucky duck with a treatment that fits the bill," and later a story about a pet pig that attacked burglars by biting them: "Arnold (yes, Arnold the pig) brought home the bacon and took a bite out of crime." I have lost all hope for the human race. Somebody wake me after the Apocalypse, okay?

2001-07-17T16:13:00.000-07:00

THE HEARING IMPAIRED CASTING DIRECTOR SCREWS UP YET ANOTHER MOVIE

No, I said get me John Amos, not John Stamos!
You idiot, I said get me Daryl Hannah, not Darrel Hammond!
Why is Mike Love here? No, I said I want a bleach blonde, not a beach bum!
No, I said get me Grant Show, not Grant Shaud!
I wanted Carrot Top for this commercial! I said to call that huge jackoff, and you called Hugh Jackman!

2001-07-15T22:25:00.000-07:00

It's not nice to mock and deride people just becasue their religion and their culture is woefully out of step with yours. But tell me it isn't bizarre and cruel to name a child some of the things put forth on this thing. Zaragrunudgeon???

2001-07-15T21:54:00.000-07:00

If you've ever had an unfathomable desire to know every single message left on Jim Rockford's answering machine on the 1970's TV show The Rockford Files, you can now do so here.

Ain't the internet a piece of work?

2001-07-14T23:47:00.000-07:00

SHOOTING FISH IN A BARREL, PART ONE

In a front page article of today's Los Angeles Daily News, the unfortunate headline writers chose to use the headline "L.A. Denser Than New York." While this referred to population density and not intelligence, why make it so easy for smart asses like me? Of course, I live in L.A. now, not New York, so I would never do that. But it would all too easy for some snide New Yorker with a poison pen to make the short leap to "I always knew it, now we have published proof," to "How can their heads be dense? I thought air was pretty light...But then again this is L.A. air we're talking about," taking a cheap shot at the smog while he's at it. Well I must put my foot down and say NO! to cheap shots like this. As a writer and an artist, it behooves me to do so. Thank you.

2001-07-14T13:50:00.000-07:00

NEW EVENTS AT THE UPCOMING BEIJING OLYMPICS

Synchronized interrogation
110 meter shoe manufacturing
Long Distance CD piracy
Dissident Kicking
Tunneling to America
Chopstick pole vault
One Billion People Jumping Up and Down at Once (cancelled)

2001-07-12T23:54:00.000-07:00

PISS-POOR SIMILES, PART THREE

Okay. Happy as a clam. Do I even need to elaborate here? What the hell do CLAMS have to be particularly happy about? Hah? I am told upon further research, that originally the phrase was "happy as a clam dug at high tide." But this doesn't make sense either. I mean, how happy could it be IF IT WAS DUG UP??? If it was ripped from its cozy home under the sand and ripped apart, only to be cooked up for the sub-par canned soup for an alcoholic construction worker at a Tulsa Denny's???? Is it me???

2001-07-09T22:51:00.000-07:00

SHOP-WORN CLICHE OR TITLE OF PORNO VIDEO?

"Here's Mud In Your Eye"
"The Crack of Dawn"
"She's Got Egg on Her Face"
"Eating Me Out of House and Home"
"The Cream of the Crop"
"Blow Your Own Horn"
"Busy as a Beaver"
"A Whole New Ball Game"
"Getting the Bum's Rush"
"Stew in His Own Juice"

2001-07-09T15:23:00.000-07:00

FIRST DRAFTS OF ELVIS PRESLEY SONGS

"Heartbreak Vestibule"
"You Ain't Nothing But A Bitch"
"Don't Eat Gruel"
"I Got A Lot of Laundry To Do"
"Hard Headed Penis"
"Marie's The Name (Of His Imaginary Girlfriend)"
"Viva Paper Towels"
"A Big Hunk O' Lung"
"Spambake"

2001-07-08T20:31:00.000-07:00

THE LAMEST "GAME" IN THE WORLD

No, it's not The Weakest Link, Chinese Fire Drill, or even 52 Pickup. And yes, quotation marks indicative of ironic distance are appropriate here, I don't care how tired of them you may be. There's this stupid contest put forth by a major soft drink manufacturer. I won't say the name, but it starts with a C and rhymes with Shmoka-Shmola. You look on the inside of your bottle cap to see if you've won a prize. And, unless you're the one person out of 1, 878,520, you don't win. So, printed on the inside of this cap is "Please play game again." Play? Game? WHAT THE HELL GAME ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? I DIDN'T PLAY ANY GAME! I DID NOT DO ANYTHING! I just looked at my bottlecap! This requires barely more effort than having a pulse! No dice were rolled! No money was wagered! No trivia question was asked! Not even a card was scratched!

They have done all the work of "playing" for you and have told you the outcome, viz, you lost! This is almost as easy as voting for president in Florida! This is corporate Orwellian doublethink at its apex, people. I'm just sorry they didn't inform me as to how much I enjoyed playing their game, because I am really not sure about that! Ah, but wait, there's another soft drink giant that has helpfully printed "Please Enjoy Again" on the inside of THEIR caps! How idiotic I am! How ungrateful! But thank heavens, the corporate citizens of American are here to show me the light, and give me ENJOYMENT! Now, please laugh heartily at my blog again, won't you????

2001-07-07T17:20:00.000-07:00

TODAY'S INSPIRATIONAL GROMMET FROM DICK DIXON, MOTIVATIONAL SPEAKER!

GO!! GO!! GO!!

Where's my three hundred dollars?

2001-07-07T13:29:00.000-07:00

ANSWERS TO IKEA QUIZ!

1.c, 2.a, 3.d, 4.b, 5.d

A winner chosen at random will receive a free KLIMPFHTT!

2001-07-07T13:24:00.000-07:00

PISS-POOR SIMILES, PART TWO

What about this. "IT RUNS LIKE A TOP!" If anyone ever tries to sell you a car and says it "runs like a top," make tracks! A top has to be pushed by hand to get going and comes to a dead stop after about twenty seconds. Is it me???

2001-06-29T16:24:00.000-07:00

MODERN-DAY IRISH CURSES

A pox of boy-bands unto you!

May her mind require Luvox, Thorazine and Haldol from now until eternity.

You will be defeated in every marketing meeting you take part in, and every peer group you mentor will be spat upon and reviled.

May your only son be half as good looking as Carrot Top, and as twice as funny.

May his 401k shrink to the size of a leprechaun's testicle.

You ne'er receive nutrition by any means apart from high-sugar, high-carbohydrate foods, high in saturated fats! You suffer the curse of Oprah, your weight continuing to rise no matter how many times you take it off.

Your cellphone number written on high for all to know, in a men's room at a bus station in permanent marker.

May your SUV sieze up like the stone gargoyles atop St. Patrick's Cathedral, your laptop receive a crippling e-mail virus of a like strength as St. Vitus' Dance, and your Tivo record nothing but infomercials with that loud Englishman!

2001-06-26T11:34:00.000-07:00

QUIZ TIME! GUESS THE IKEA* ITEM BASED ON ITS NAME!

1. BLORMPP
a) Desk lamp
b) Wastebasket
c) Coat Hook
d) Rattan sofa

2. SKRHULMTT
a) Tablecloth
b) Pool floatie
c) Particleboard Chaise Lounge
d) Napkin Organizer

3. QUELM
a) Tea Cosy
b) Tea Cosy Organizer
c) Tea Cosy Cosy
d) Tea Cosy Cosy Organizer Cosy

4. PHORHKK
a) Bilge pump
b) Collectible Thimble Carousel
c) Nuclear reactor
d) Fork

5. IVAN
a) leather recliner
b) basinet dust ruffle
c) chair that folds up and fits into your pocket
d) the guy that cleans the cafeteria

Answers to be posted soon! Hold your breath!

*Ikea, for those not lucky to have one in their city, is a Swedish-based giant furniture store that...er, all the items have these meaningless, pan-linguistic names, and...ah screw it, it's too complicated to explain.

2001-06-21T16:50:00.000-07:00

REJECTED LISTS OF REJECTED ITEMS

Rejected new thread colors
Rejected names for pet rocks
Rejected magic tricks for kleptomaniacs
Rejected theories of why Cordouroy slacks make that noise when you walk
Rejected extreme sports for quadraplegics
Rejected Scandanavian kung-fu moves
Rejected fusion cooking recipes for zoo animals
Rejected craft projects for death row inmates
Rejected excuses why you didn't take proper care of your pet ocelot
Rejected glamour make-up tips from blind women
Rejected new manufactured teen pop groups (because none of those have ever been rejected, they've all released records)

2001-06-21T16:36:00.000-07:00

PISS-POOR SIMILES, PART ONE

Ever heard the expression "clean as a whistle"? This is a piss-poor simile. Aren't they usually all caked with spit from being in someone's mouth?

2001-06-20T17:20:00.000-07:00

TODAY'S INSPIRATIONAL CURD FROM DICK DIXON, MOTIVATIONAL SPEAKER!

You can only push the envelope if you think outside the box and let the cat out of the bag. Keep being!

2001-06-19T12:16:00.000-07:00

Someone urged me to listen to some avant-garde music. I tried to listen to some Free Jazz, but I think the only reason it's called that is that nobody would ever pay for it.

2001-06-18T16:02:00.000-07:00

TODAY'S CHUCKLE:
The red ones are pretty good, but I think I'll have a black one today.

2001-06-18T15:41:00.000-07:00

SOME QUICK RESTAURANT REVIEWS

Slice-N-Slosh
On Highway 41 Near the munitions plant
Their nuclear-hot chicken gizzards have hospitalized only 12 people this month, so things are lookin' up! Always packed due to their ever-popular "Beer Cannon" so line up early with your mouth open!

Zkqqkvian Chicken
9833 Third Street, in Little Azerbaijan
Check out their spit roasted chicken (using real spit!). Their famous garlic sauce (available to go in 12 ounce jars or the economy 30 gallon barrel) puts a smile on your lips and can also be used to clean your bathroom tile grout!

Fhude (pronounced "food")
328 Aspen Glen Heights Trail Cove Crescent Way, in Aspen Glen Heights
Superstar chef Franz Lichenmeyall-Uevre has created dishes that go beyond the fantastic into the spastic. He has transcended fusion and entered contusion cooking, where German Sauerbraten bumps heads with Peruvian Dried Skankfish Soup, and his Pineapple Borscht has to be thrown up to be truly appreciated.

Sven's Burrito Hut
7895641 El Camino Real, Basura Flats
The latest fast food craze has hit big time: Scandanavian burritos! Lingonberry Enchiladas are on the grill! Lutefisk fajitas are sizzlin'! Try the Gravlax nachos for extra special agita. Free unlimited visits to their Zantac Bar.

2001-06-18T15:12:00.000-07:00

I'm lookin' for the the home plate umpire at Dodger Stadium. I got a score to settle with him.

2001-06-16T18:23:00.000-07:00

WHY YES, YOU HAVE FLEETINGLY BARELY SEEN ME BEFORE

Before giving up on show biz, at least as a practical matter, and getting a steadily-paying job, I worked as a bit player/extra in several films which you most likely have not seen before. Here now, a brief guide.

Walk Like An Egyptian - The Bangles (Music Video) (1987):
Yes, that's my arm, first one on the extreme right of the screen. My years of studying Stanislavsy, and other janitors in my high school, had finally paid off. I was hoping this would lead to a lucrative career in the fast-paced world of upper-arm modeling, but alas, it's a fickle business.

Club Fed (1990):
This idiotic movie has been on cable a lot, most recently on Comedy Central. Don't blink or you'll miss me as one of the bellboys. I felt I was a shoo-in at the Oscars for Best Performance while Getting Hit In the Crotch By A Luggage Cart, but the Academy didn't add that category until the following year. Damn them and their jealousy! Don't bother watching this movie, the writing stinks.

Across The Moon (1992):
You need a good telescope, like perhaps the one at Mount Palomar, to find me in the background of of several of the scenes at the prison. This is a total chick flick, with the "strong woman" lead roles going to Christina Applegate and Elizabeth Pena, who meet after their respective boyfriends are taken to jail in a drug bust gone bad. Maybe Lifetime could show it but I'm not sure. But I was happy to be in a film with David St. Hubbins himself, Michael McKean.

Maniac Cop III (1992):
My work as "Third Guy From The Left" speaks for itself.

The Skateboard Kid (1996):
I enjoyed working on this project as Dom DeLuise's gut double. Lousy music though.

Baseketball (1998):
I guess typecasting is at work here, but I felt I did journeyman work as 37th guy from the right, 18th row from the front in the concert scene.

Titanic (1998):
It took a lot of work, but through determination and grit I was able to portray one of the computer generated passengers on the deck in the special effects shots. Again, hard to see me, but those who look hard enough are rewarded with a stellar performance, I feel.

American Beauty (1999):
This was to have been my big breakthrough role, but sadly, my work as Harv The Wacky Neighbor Who Loves To Barbeque was left on the cutting room floor. Yes, they did completely rewrite the script and reshoot every single scene I was in, but the film DID go on to win an Oscar, so what does THAT say about MY performance?

2001-06-15T15:32:00.000-07:00

SOME ROOM-ENTERING CATCHPHRASES!

If I ever become a living Sitcom character, and believe me, I'm not that far off at present, I have always felt I would require a zeitgeist- capturing catchphrase to bellow as I fling open the door and barge into the room to waves of pre-recorded applause and laughter, much in the tradition of Lenny and Squiggy's "Hello" and The Fonz's "Aaaaaaaay!"

Here are my top candidates:

(To be blurted in one exhaled breath:) WATCHADOIN'?
Anybody call A DOCTOR?
My ears are burnin'!
Great big loads'a pancakes!
Sounds good to me!
I'll settle this!
WHAT'S TA EAT?
Hellloooooooooo, Pembrook! (Must be no one named Pembrook in the room)
Great big loads'a waffles!
I smell bacon...
Let's Get Naked!
Mis pantalones son inflammados! ("My pants are swollen" - for the Spanish market - needs work)

...and the dark horse...

Say, you're not President Rutherford B. Hayes!*

*(I came up with this one in a peyote-induced frenzy during a shaman-led seance invoking the spirit of Jim Morrison in the desert outside Yuma Arizona one chilly, moonless winter's night. I know there's very little potential there, but I like it just for sentimental reasons).

2001-06-14T16:59:00.000-07:00

In this country it's a constant culture war between the minority of smart people and the majority of dumb people. If you don't know it already, the dumb people are winning. And frankly, the smart people are PISSED OFF about it. At least idiots have an excuse to fall back on for their behavior. That's why so many people are becoming alcoholics or drug addicts; despeately trying to dumb themselves down to fit in with the rest of the Beebos. They have reason to be happy. Their guy got into the White House. It's no wonder when so many people voted for Duh!Bya because "he seems like the guy that I'd like to have a beer with." Jiminy freekin Christmas! If that's your rationale then why are we not under President Wendt? (That was Norm, from "Cheers," remember him?) It's the type of mentality that doesn't believe electric cars will be effective because they don't know how they're gonna make the power cord that long! Is it me??? So people, help me out here. I want to get ahead in life. How can I become dumber??????

2001-06-13T21:56:00.000-07:00

You see this auction they had in London where some guy paid two million bucks for a chapeau once worn by Napoleon? I would never pay that, because I think that's just old hat.

2001-06-13T21:54:00.000-07:00

Since the Lakers won the NBA title, they had a victory parade, but they didn't let Shaq participate because they were afraid he'd get on his high horse.

2001-06-13T21:52:00.000-07:00

The other day I was playing with Krazy Glue and accidentally glued my fingers together. You should not do that because it dries rock solid very quickly. This is a hard and fast rule.

2001-06-13T16:49:00.000-07:00

Dear Patrons,
There is an excellent new blog that you all should be bookmarking post haste.
It's a world of fun and frolic
For a hypnotist or an alcoholic,
and it goes by the name of American Waste

Also please fry your brain on the following: Our Lady of Perpetual Motion, Viking Funeral, Giraffes on Horseback Salad.
Your underdeveloped enjoyment buds will thank you for the workout. Sllllurp!